UnBooks:The Miseries of Uncyclopedia Life

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“Sitting in one's small place, surrounded by stark ironwork, one has time to think of such things - I suppose”~ Oscar Wilde on Unbooks: The Miseries of Uncyclopedia Life

There is comfort in numbers

Written in 1899 by Vicar Youngquest Colt, The Miseries of Uncyclopedia Life was a treatise on the number of possible petty outrages and needling jabs that the average Uncyclopedia contributor could encounter in his (or her) life.

Although never proven, it is widely believed that the true author of the book was Oscar Wilde, an important and earnest Irish writer. Given the publication date, the tome could have been written in the can, where Wilde was serving time for being altogether too happy during the later Victorianperiod – a behavior seen as disrespectful to Queen Victoria who was on month 456 of the traditional one-year period of mourning observed by even the most pious of women of the era.

The book was a critical success, although it was viewed as somewhat of an inside joke by many. A nineteen-year old H. L. Mencken, writing under the user name of “Ambrose Rectumble” called the book an “amusing trifle written by one who not only understands that skill of scorn, but knows how to use it his advantage in the chat room.”Dorothy Parker, the rapier tongued ringmaster of the Algonquin Elementary School Lunch Table said of the book that “This is not a book to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”

Spending hours developing an idea, replete with great satire, mucho double entendre to tickle the humor of the reader, only to find that it's been nominated to VFD after one day because someone feels it violates Rule #1.

Encountering writers block of such magnitude that even the words simplest words, such as A, For and Against, are a struggle to type and submit. And just when you think that it it is beginning to crack, rereading your composition and coming to the painful conclusion that it is an insult to Sophia.

Encountering an uppity community member who cannot write, and refuses to contribute to anything constructive, instead preferring to assail and degrade everyone elses work with rude comments and negative voting. And if confronted, the twit will vote against everything that you do for the rest of their natural born days because they are a no talent twit at that.

The asshole who votes against your humor is too American for their tastes.

Having visited the VFD salon only to find that all of your carefully crafted articles on early television programs have been nominated for deletion by a high school age user who is tired of all this ancient stuff.

Being haunted by IP’s that think it is un-endingly funny to insert sophomoric nonsense into an article because it is something that occupies their time during study hall.

After stumbling about for weeks trying to find the IRC’s entrance only to find out that your browser is incompatible with the IRC.

Others knowing that you have been stumbling about for weeks trying to find the IRC’s entrance.

Coming into the middle of a conversation on IRC in which two or three people dominate ad nauseum, and being unable to understand what they are conversing about.

Upon entering the IRC, having others refer to you as a “crazy bitch” or “complete asshole” as if you are not there. Worse yet, they mock you as unworthy for even thinking that you are welcome in the IRC.

Being picked upon by a snot nosed Bulgarian, a creature borne of the soft underbelly of Europe, you find that the Cabal has little interest in saving you from the Wikipedophile because someone needs to be thrown under the bus to appease the brute and you are "it".

While pleasurable under the best of circumstances, a sinus infection in which ones nose oozes copious amounts of brownish tinged yellow lung butter makes kitten huffing a useless activity.

Having your personal user page vandalized and discovering that either no one else noticed, that everyone thinks the resulting rubbish is so much better that you are pressured to keep it as your own.

Entering Uncyclopedia and requesting a random article only to find that you are given a Mr. Winkler article. Asking again and again being given another sort of Mr. Winkler article. Approaching the random article request thrice, and receiving a third article that features the foul Mr. Winkler a third time. Then loping off, doomed and depressed.

Winning a competitive accolade when you are the only one nominated, thus preventing your gloating rights.

Having your true on screen identity discovered by a fellow Uncyclopedian who doesn't even want to tell anyone who you really are.

Spending hours on end developing an image of Queen Elizabeth, on her back, trying to kiss the Blarney Stone and being told that the lighting and shadow is not only all wrong, but looks as if the effect was done by a chimp.

Seeing the text of one of your best Uncyclopedia articles appear in and on The Onion the day after you post it on Uncyclopedia.

Being told that your new article should have spent more "idea" time in the sandbox.

Having your witticisms reconfigured as in something called a Russian reversal and finding that they are more humorous in that fashion.

Being chided about wearing a thong, and after feigning disinterest in that type of garment only to have ongoing lurid dreams of dancing before the Cabal in said thong underwear while Zombiebarron plays the theme from Borat on a pair of musical spoons.

Making a minor and classical illusion to Hephaestion’s fine rump whilst writing about your acquaintance, Lord Alfred Douglas, and having it land you in jail because the Queen is smarter than she looks.